Loathing, Love & Lily
by Inks Inc
Summary: Every day with that boy was a stark reminder, a wrenching knife of regret. Of course he hated him, it was natural. Cyclical. He attracted his loathing from day one. But what happens when day one is gone, and those eyes betray him? What happens...when he starts to care? Snape/Harry - Mentor/Mentee WARNING: MAY contain references to Spanking, but *NOT* related to a minor. COMPLETED.
1. Curiosity of Change

The leaves swirling around his feet gave a limp, jaded crunch as he trudged onwards. Their wearied crackling seeming oddly in tandem with the heavy burden closeted firmly in his chest. Sighing as he felt the cruel October wind curl around his ears, he instinctively drew his cloak around him.

He was desperate for a feeling of warmth, that the heavy cloak could never provide.

Not when he was cold from the inside out.

On he walked, harrowing memories strolling by his side. The unwelcome, unshakable accompaniment of every minute, of every day.

Eventually stopping short at the familiar wrought iron gates, he stood wearily.

This last mission had been particularly taxing, and for the fools who believed in souls and the like, they would say his one had taken a hammering. His dark eyes raked the inky blackness of the cold night, and another sigh was heard.

Whatever soul he had had, was long since departed.

His lips twitched mirthlessly.

The fable of souls was amusing to him, seeing as he felt a twisting pain in that area of his abdomen…where this mythical organ of the good ought to lay.

The shimmering golden lights from the slumbering castle shone down at him, and his feeling of all consuming misery shot up a notch. The façade…the act, it was becoming more and more wearisome.

He had never felt more out of place in the one place that he had first claimed as home.

Before he could delve even further into what he recognised as…one of his _bouts_ , he shook his head firmly.

There was a reason that he now did the things he did, saw the things he saw…and that reason couldn't be abandoned. It was the only thing that gave him purpose, that facilitated the air he dragged through his reluctant lungs on a daily basis.

With a flick of his wand, the gates sprang apart and the man swept up the springy garden path, his cloak billowing in his wake.

He should really check in with Dumbledore before he retired, but he found…that he just couldn't stomach recounting the night's events.

It could keep.

That night was a restless one, like the many others before it.

Rising from an almost enshrined habit at six am, he set about his morning routine with a lacklustre enthusiasm, mentally gearing himself up to get through the day.

Parting his hair into his trademark severe hanging curtain, he swept from his quarters and made his way down to the Great Hall.

Rolling his eyes at the empty corridors, he once again lamented Dumbledore's soft policies.

Well…his _opinion_ of Dumbledore's soft policies, it wasn't an opinion shared by the rest of the staff.

If _he_ had been headmaster, the students wouldn't still be lounging in bed at gone seven in the morning.

The eyes rolled again.

What _did_ ever happen to standards?

Entering the hall and throwing himself down in his usual spot, he shot a glowering look of dire warning at Trelawney who foolishly decided to attempt _chit chat_ with him.

 _Mystical_ chit chat at that.

Scowling into his porridge, he ran through his class schedule in his mind. An even deeper frown worked its way onto the pale complexion in response.

First up, Gryffindor's and Slytherin's.

His inoffensive porridge quivered in the wake of another offensive scowl sent in its direction.

A double class of trying to repress the bitter war that was brewing between his house and Minerva's.

Just the start to the morning he needed.

As if on que, the oak doors of the hall suddenly burst open and a rowdy grouping of boisterous boys barrelled in.

Gryffindor's…third years.

His eyes narrowed as he spied the cause of the most complex pool of emotions that had besieged him in recent years.

 _Potter._

He scowled, sighed and frowned all at the same time.

When that kid had first arrived through the doors of Hogwarts, he had been prepared to loathe him on sight.

And he had…he _really_ had.

But…not for the reasons he thought. Not for the reasons that had set his teeth on edge, and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Not because he was so like… _him._

No… it was…because he was _so_ like _her._

He watched surreptitiously as…her son, her flesh and blood roughhoused with some other boy whose name he didn't pretend to remember.

His brow furrowed even deeper when the boy's laugher could be heard dimly up at the teaching table, the hall still being moderately empty.

The tinkling laugh, interchanged with a dash of hearty guffaw…was _her._

He shook his head, and averted his gaze. Stabling his porridge moodily, he willed the conflicting emotions that were growing stronger every day to leave him.

It had been easier a few years ago…much easier in fact.

But as the kid grew, as he moved up the school…the similarities became more and more pronounced, and the diverging spectrum of emotion grew in tandem.

He wanted to keep hating the Potter offspring. With his carbon replica looks, right down to that tangled mop he called hair.

He _needed_ to hate him.

 _Needed_ to maintain the natural order.

…and he was failing.

With each passing year, his feelings were changing from loathing to a…a _paternal_ affection?

He rolled his eyes.

What was he becoming?

He loathed children.

He especially loathed any children of James Potter…right?

He swallowed with difficulty.

Wrong.

He had been brought face to face with these jarring feelings about eight or nine months ago. When Potter and his shadow Weasley got into _another_ of their _idiotic_ scrapes.

Of course he had been the one to catch them, his student snaring abilities second only to Filch.

It was then…as he'd roughly pulled the two boy's back by the scruffs of their collars as they'd foolishly attempted to discharge a bet by entering the forbidden forest, that the problem started.

It was then, as he had shouted himself hoarse at the two of them, that the cosmic shift in his consciousness where Potter was concerned _really_ showed itself.

In all its confusing, infuriating splendour.

He had been…livid at his actions…but he had also been _scared_ by them.

… _scared_ of what could have happened to him in the forest that he lacked any defence against.

He didn't feel the same fear when he had rounded on Weasley. With him, he was merely furious.

With Potter…it was more than that.

Another stabbing of the mutilated porridge cracked around the teaching table, with Professor Flitwick squeaking in surprised indignation.

Another sigh resounded around the filling table.

He sat in stony silence as he continued to berate himself for his soft, foolish inner monologue, accompanied with some more vigorous porridge stirring.

That was the case… until he was interrupted.

By a deafening, sickening bang.

Startled, he instinctively jumped to his feet and drew his wand in one smooth action, his eyes darting around for potential danger.

His double life meant that he was acutely aware of any hidden pitfalls.

…which also boded well for a teaching career.

Rounding his gaze downward, his black eyes narrowed dangerously as he took in the scene that engulfed the Gryffindor table.

A haze of dense smoke hung over the shell shocked sea of black and scarlet clad faces, as he stared furiously.

His eyes swivelled to the obvious cause of the mayhem, who was backing away from his self created spectacle with a doomed look on his face.

The black eyes were now slits, as the now familiar dance of anger and fear danced inside their host.

There was a complete silence in the ornate hall for just a moment, before it was uncerimonously broken by a magnified, furious voice, that had all present students cringing away from the line of fire.

" _Potter!"_

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: Ok, so very first Harry Potter fic! Please let me know what you think!


	2. Knowledge Woes

Harry stood rooted to the spot in Snape's office, as the potions master paced behind his desk with a worrying agitation. Pushing his clammy hands into his robes, he once again cursed his stupidity.

How could he have been such a _moron?_

His feet shuffled of their own accord as Snape turned to look at him, opened his mouth, and then jammed it tightly shut once more.

It wasn't meant to go off.

It _definitely_ wasn't meant to explode.

But that wasn't the main thing that was making his heart pound, and a cold sweat break out in the midst of his wild fringe.

Oh no.

It was the blaring, neon Zonko's joke shop packaging that lay in all its glory on his teachers desk. Harry was generally a quick thinker, but every lie he was tempted to tell died a death in his throat as Snape's pacing became even more and more erratic.

But then…it stopped.

And Snape began to speak.

And Harry began to miss the silent pacing.

"Potter…" he murmured in his velvety tones, "I am going to ask you a question now…and for you're the sake of your _life_ you are going to tell me the truth. Is that clear?"

The wild mop of hair became more wild as the kid nodded his head reluctantly with a murmured "yes sir."

Returning the nod slowly, Severus willed every muscle in his body to stop twitching.

He forced himself to calm down.

"Did you go to Hogsmeade last weekend?"

There it was.

The question.

Harry's whirred and creaked under the protesting pressure of the answer he knew he would be forced to give. Whilst Dumbledore always seemed to know what he was thinking before even he knew, Snape wasn't far of the level of his headmaster's omniscience.

If he lied, he would know.

…and that would be…unfortunate.

Gulping, the young seeker resolved to tell the truth.

"Yes sir" he all but whispered, wondering briefly if it was possible to die by murderous stare.

Because if it _was…_ he was in danger of his young life.

Snape's nostrils flailed and expanded with the predictable answer. Thoughts of Sirius Black invaded his mind, the danger the young man in front of him had placed himself in…the sacrifice he had carelessly juggled.

"I see" he eventually answered, "and…how, may I ask, did you manage this feat? I know very well Potter, that you are not _permitted_ to breathe the oxygen that serves Hogsmeade. Am I right?"

The almost pleasant tones of his least favourite teacher made Harry want to bolt from the room, bolt from the _universe._

Instead, he found himself offering a miserable "yes professor."

The curtain of black hair swung with the jerky nodding of its owner, as Snape strove once more to remain in control of himself.

"Explain" he spat furiously, leaning over his desk to better glare at the young man in front of him.

Harry's shuffling skyrocketed as he once again bore witness to the awful conundrum of knowing that the truth was inevitable, but also knowing that the truth was a death sentence.

Oh well.

He'd had…thirteen long years on the planet.

Time to say goodbye.

"Secret tunnel sir…" he croaked out slowly, "you know…the one eye-d witch passage…it, uhh…well it leads to Honeydukes…"

Silence once again reigned supreme, as Snape's pale complexion went through an alarming rigour of changing colours.

"You…you _snuck_ out of this castle through a secret passage into a sweet shop? Is that what you're telling me?" he eventually growled the hairs on the back of his neck standing with a rage he worked hard to keep under wraps.

The squirming of his young student surged once more.

"…yes sir" he mumbled, a blush creeping on his face.

Snape's breathing took on a ragged quality.

"I was under the… _impression_ Potter, that the situation with Sirius Black had been explained to you? Am I _wrong_ in that impression?"

The horrified look dawning over…her son's face had an alarming impact on his heartstrings.

 _What_ heartstrings?

He blinked.

He was supposed to be enraged…not…not _sympathetic._

This situation was really getting out of hand.

Before he could open his mouth to bark for an answer, he was getting one.

A babbling one.

A one he _didn't_ like.

The more the kid rambled on, the angrier and angrier he got.

But…not at _him._

He stared without seeing, through a red mist, as Harry continued to stutter and stammer out an apology infused with explanations, and pleadings not to be sent to Dumbledore.

When his voice tapered off, and his gaze dropped to his shoes, Snape's mind seemed to rise out of the foggy mist.

"What did you say?" he eventually whispered in a deathly dangerous tone, "what did you _just_ say Potter?"

The alarmed look on the boy's face was lost to him in that moment, as the sickening rage continued to spread throughout his entire being.

"…that….that I'm _sorry_ sir and it'll never happen again?" Harry repeated weakly, cursing once more being caught by _Snape_ of all people.

At least with McGonagall if she killed him, he would at least have a decent burial.

With _Snape…_ no one would ever even find his body.

He gulped once more as his teacher shook his head slowly.

"No Potter…not that part, the _part_ where you said you know you shouldn't have done it…because _Professor Lupin_ had already warned you never to do it again?"

The silence that tore through the room was like some sort of bizarre, quiet tornado as student and teacher stared at each other wordlessly, with the student part of the equation fighting the urge to rip his own tongue from his mouth and stomp on it.

"Uhh…erm, no" he gabbled "what I meant…what I _meant_ was…"

He couldn't tell Snape about the map.

Ever.

He'd already said too much.

A million times over.

He didn't even consciously _tell_ Snape that Lupin had caught him before. He'd just gotten so tongue tied in his explanations…that it had just slipped out.

He closed his bright eyes in dismay.

"Potter…" Snape snarled, "did Professor Lupin know about you using that secret passage? A yes or no answer, right this second, or we go to the Headmaster."

The eyes clenched tighter still.

"Sir…it wasn't like that…it just…it just."

A hand was held up.

" _Yes_ or _no_ Potter?"

Gulping and casting around futilely for some middle ground to that question, Harry faltered.

There was no way out.

It was either now, or be dragged up to Dumbledore's office which would get Lupin in a lot of trouble.

Raw guilt spread throughout the young man as he choked on his own words.

"Yes" he gritted out through clenched teeth, "but it was _my_ fault. You can't blame him."

Snape shook his head in disbelief.

Lupin had known…and had made no effort to seal of that passage? Had made no effort to speak to Dumbledore? Had let the kid off free and merry to risk his _life?"_

His heavy cloak practically vibrated with rage.

Closing his eyes briefly, he regained composure of himself born with the familiarity of an extensive experience in emotion control.

"You have just bought yourself detention, with me, for two weeks Potter. You are also _completely_ confined to the castle, with no grounds for a month. Also, no quidditch and no activities of any kind for a month. Is that clear?"

The horrified gaping only increased as the next words were uttered.

"…and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor. I will speak to you later to arrange your detentions, now, get out of my sight and get to class."

The quiet tornado was back.

Harry shook his head furiously.

"Sir…no, please…you can't-"

The hand was held up once more.

"You are not, nor will you ever be, in a position to tell me what I can and cannot do Potter. You can count yourself lucky you're not being suspended, which you will be, if you do not go to class _now."_

He waited silently with a patience he never knew he possessed as the kid stood mutinously for a moment, before grabbing his bag and storming from his office.

"Unbelievable" Snape muttered under his breath, as he too, without a second's hesitation, stormed from the room.

Making his way with a gate that would put athletes to shame along the corridors, his mind spun with the recent revelations.

Students scattered in the halls as he swept passed with a look of utter fury on his face. With the speed he was taking, it wasn't long before he was careering into the comfortable staff room.

Barging in with a force that was quite alarming, he side stepped the door as it rebounded off the wall with a snap.

Seeing the subject of his ire perched serenely in his usual spot, he let out a snarl. He crossed the otherwise empty room in two strides, and within another nanosecond, Remus Lupin was pinned against the wall by the pin of his collar.

The gurgling sounds of indignation mixed with shock were drowned out by the roaring words that fell from Snape's mouth.

"You _knew"_ he all but screeched into his colleagues face, "…you _knew_ what he was doing…and you…did nothing?"

He paused to suck in another deep breath, to continue his shouting match.

…but he never got the chance.

The two men, foe and foe, were suddenly and forcibly jerked apart.

Remus was dragged by his naval in one direction, and Snape in the other.

Gasping for breath and fighting the pangs of shock, both men scrambled to their feet, heads swivelling for the unexpected interruption.

When they _saw_ the cause, their hearts dropped.

Standing in the doorway, Albus Dumbledore arched a silver brow, raised wand in hand.

"…gentlemen? My office, if you please, _now."_

…

TBC

…

A/N: This fic has been rattling around my head for a while, so I've decided to go with it.

In answer to the guest reviewer, I have no intention of writing spanking scenes with Harry/Kids in it. I never have, and I never will. I don't condone it, so fret not! (I totally understand your reservations btw, and I share them) The only people who will be written into those kind of scenes will be…well I'll let you all guess!

Thanks for reading guys!


	3. Brawn over Brain

Shooting each other looks of brimming hatred, Professor's Snape and Lupin stood awkwardly in front of the magnificent oak desk of their collective headmaster. As per his maddening custom, the elder of the three didn't utter a syllable as he sat silently and appraised them.

His blue eyes that usually danced with his intelligent humour, whilst not being cold, certainly weren't twinkling.

They both watched as he leant forwards in the high backed chair, and rested his chin upon his interlocked fingers. He examined them both closely, before turning his gaze to rest firmly on Lupin.

"Would you care to explain to me the cause of the… scene I just happened upon Remus?" he murmured, with an exasperated wave of his hand.

The voice was as flawlessly cordial as ever, no rising pitch or clipped words.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher merely stared back him as he struggled to find words that would properly convey his complete and utter lack of information on the matter.

Giving up, he threw a look in Snape's direction, who, staring impassively ahead did not catch it.

Or, didn't appear to catch it.

"I truthfully cannot say headmaster" Lupin began slowly, "perhaps… it would be best if you directed that question to Severus here, he seems to be the one with the…ahh, _issue."_

He accompanied his short answer with a loaded jerk of his head in his colleague's direction, who was still seemingly transfixed upon the wall over Dumbledore's eye line.

Sighing, and reminding himself that rolling one's eyes at his age was simply unbecoming, Albus shifted his gaze to the right.

"…Severus?"

His voice remained as even as it had when he had addressed Lupin, but a gentle note of softness seemed to creep into the quiet voice.

Snape snapped his gaze back down to level eye contact between himself and the seated man.

"It is…nothing" he gritted out through a clenched jaw, "the matter will resolve itself."

With that, he pursed his lips together into a tight line, and averted his eyes once more.

Nodding thoughtfully as if this non answer was simply fascinating, Dumbledore continued to run his keen gaze over one of his longest serving members of staff.

He took in the tenser than usual poise, the heavier than usual breathing and the flashing quality of the dark eyes and made an assessment.

Whatever this was, it was personal.

As myopic and downright difficult as Snape could be when it came to teaching matters and concerns, his eyes only sparked like that when he was truly upset.

Dumbledore could count on his hands the amount of times he'd seen the younger man break through his icy shell, his front, as a result of such upset.

The silver eyebrows contracted.

The root cause of each and every one of those sporadic upsets shared a common denominator.

 _Lily._

The wise brain whirred as he rapidly contemplated his next bout of speech. Taking in once more the completely bemused looking expression in Remus' face and the clinically neutral one adorning Severus', he came to a decision.

"Remus…could you excuse us please?" he requested quietly. "I assure you, should this conversation need to be taken any further between you and I, I shall let you know…"

There was a silence as his two professor's exchanged silent looks and as a head was nodded.

"As you wish" Lupin replied courteously, and shooting Snape one last look of confused anger, he turned and swept from the room.

The Potions aspect of the equation did not take the DADA professor's expulsion from the room as a sign that anything boded particularly well for him.

Clearing his throat, he dragged his cloak of suave indifference back over him.

"If that's all headmaster, I should also take my leave. I have a class to attend to…"

A small smile played on Dumbledore's lips as he shook his head in a bout of half hearted exasperation. Turning to Fawkes, he murmured to her in a low tone, that was almost conversational as Snape rolled his eyes.

That freaking bird.

Taking flight, and nuzzling against her owners shoulders, the amber bird disappeared from the room with a snap.

"Cover shall be arranged" came the airy reply, accompanied with an instructive hand gesture towards the chair in front of the stately desk.

"Sit, please."

Scowling fiercely, the frame of lank hair swung sharply as an irritated jerk of the head was given.

"Forgive me, headmaster, but I really-"

A commanding hand held upwards interrupted him.

"You really must _sit down,_ as there shall be no question of forgiveness until you do so."

Biting his lip immediately to refrain from verbalising the scathing retort that sprung to his lips, the younger man swooped down into the chair with an irritated gate.

Steeling himself to appear affected by what he was sure would be a long winded lecture, he crossed his legs and sat back in the chair.

When the glass of water magically appeared in front of him, he suppressed a sigh.

"I'm fine" he declined doggedly, as he pushed it away "thank you…"

Leaning forwards once more, the silver beard swayed gently as the man ran his maddeningly omniscient gaze over his entire being.

"No Severus" came the quiet voice, "I don't think you are…now, why don't you explain to me what possessed you to place your hands on a member of my staff in anger?"

Seeing the dark look passing over Snape's face, he raised a brow.

" _Now_ , if you please. I appreciate it you might not want to talk about it, but you'll simply have to forgive me, for I have to insist."

Glaring across the desk at an entirely unperturbed Dumbledore, the younger of the two barely repressed a snarl.

"As I said, it is a matter that will work itself out in due course" he repeated icily, "now, if you'll excuse me…"

He began to rise, only to be firmly seated once more by a much sharper voice.

"No, I do _not_ excuse you Severus, nor will I, until I get to the bottom of this matter. I hardly need to tell you that staff members _brawling_ where anyone could have come across you, is hardly ideal?"

For the first time, Snape felt a pang of shame.

He had behaved like a mindless fool, operating with his fists rather than his mouth or his intellect.

" _Do_ I need to remind you of that?"

Snapping out of his brief reverie, the curtain of lifeless hair swung once more.

Albeit much slower, and with much less gusto.

"No headmaster…that isn't necessary" he muttered, feeling a heat rise in his sallow cheeks.

Noting the change in demeanour, Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Good. Now, for the final time please, could you explain to me the cause of the problem between yourself and Remus?"

Ashamed to find himself squirming in his seat slightly, Snape cleared his throat awkwardly.

He knew there would be no question of leaving this room without divulging the truth.

He could lie… and he could probably get away with it. His years of experience with occlumency coupled with his natural aptitude provided for a stellar poker face.

However, as he looked into the deeply wrinkled yet strangely youthful face he knew he couldn't lie.

He respected the man too much.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

But…as that insufferable kid's face popped up in his mind's eye, he knew he could…mitigate.

Telling the man in front of him that his favourite pupil had risked life and limb for a jaunt into the village…jarred him.

He blinked.

He ought to hang that boy out to dry.

But…having been on the receiving end of Dumbledore's gut wrenching disappointment in various stages throughout his life, he found himself possessed of the strange desire to…protect Ha…Potter, from that.

He blinked again.

What on _earth_ was the matter with him?

This was the perfect opportunity to have both Potter _and_ Lupin thrown into the hot seat, and here he was, thinking rapidly to avoid it.

Maybe he was ill?

He blinked once more.

"…Lupin and I" he began slowly, "had a disagreement about…a disciplinary issue regarding…a common student. I'm afraid the matter escalated, and I lost my temper. I apologise."

A tentative silence settled over the room, as Dumbledore chewed over this half truth.

He knew what he was being told amounted to a portion of the story, and he also knew he was being denied the other.

"A common student?" he mused eventually, "…does this student have a name?"

Balking inwardly, Snape schooled his features with a pro's speed.

"Of course" he acquiesced smoothly, "but…I'm sure you understand that the matter in question was not brought to your attention as it was deemed dealt with, and that it would be unfair to name the student as an afterthought."

The tentative silence was back, as Dumbledore was now the one struggling to keep his expression impassive.

His mind flew to Harry. It was the obvious choice. The emotion he was still reading off of his young professor was Lily related, he was sure of it.

And where there was Lily…there was Harry.

The brows contracted in confusion once more.

He'd had had to listen to Severus' ranting and raving, protesting and pouting about Harry's behaviour from the moment he had set foot in the castle. He'd sat through endless pacing where that young man and where the man in front of him were concerned.

So why was he suddenly protecting him?

And protecting _him_ he _was_ , no matter what platitudes were thrown his way about student anonymity.

He was sure of it.

"Very well, you need not name the student" he conceded, playing along, "but…I'm at a loss to understand why a disagreement pertaining a _student_ would lead you to resort to violence?"

The faint blushing adorning the sallow skin was now becoming less faint.

"Like I say…I lost my temper" Snape muttered before swallowing and saying words that he positively despised saying.

"I'm…sorry."

With that, he snapped his mouth shut and willed the moment where he would dismissed from the office to come hurtling down the tracks.

Dumbledore for his part was doing some willing of his own.

Willing himself to _understand_ the complex person that sat in front of him. He was protecting Harry from him. That alone was the most confusing aspect of Hogwarts life he had encountered that year. Why should Snape think that Harry needed to be shielded from _him?_

 _Snape_ of all people thinking that _he_ would…upset the child?

He frowned as his mind kicked into overdrive.

He had known Severus long enough to know the young man didn't care much, or failed to be perturbed by his anger with him when it occurred. He would merely weather the storm out with his habitual indifference.

The only thing that bothered the man was…his disappointment in him.

A light flicked on inside the unusual brain.

Could it be that… _Severus_ was protecting _Harry_ from _his_ disappointment?

He sighed slightly.

What had that boy done now?

His mind refocused, as he ran a gaze over the now resolutely silent Potions master.

His mind flew up into another gear as he pondered furiously.

If he pressed now…if he demanded answers _now_ , he knew he would never get them.

The pressing anomaly of the subtle change in demeanour from Snape where Harry was concerned was filed firmly aware for further evaluation.

He had a distant inkling as to the direction the change was taking, but he didn't dare believe it.

He never would have believed it possible.

…and he would never have more dearly loved to be proven wrong.

The corners of his mouth tugged up in blissful appreciation of what could be.

If only Severus could see…

Snapping himself back to the present, his shoulders sagged with the weight of his position. Whatever the provocation, whatever the emotional turmoil the young man was going through, he couldn't excuse physical conflict between his staff.

"Alright Severus. I know there is more to this tale than you care to divulge, and for now, what you have told me shall suffice. I believe you when you say that there is no need for me to be informed of this student's issue…but I trust I _shall_ be informed should that situation change?"

The head nodded slowly.

"Yes headmaster."

Returning the nod, Dumbledore pressed on.

"Whatever else is at play here, whatever elements that are not in my purview…are not elements that I will ever consider just cause for assaulting another member of staff. Is that clear?"

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he cleared his throat.

"It's clear" he murmured quietly, wondering if he was _ever_ going to get out of this office.

Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, the elder man drew on his now less than ample supply of resolve to get through the next few moments.

"Severus…do you remember the… _conversation_ you and I had, some months ago, after your altercation with Professor Trelawney?"

The air seemed to vanish from the room as the younger of the two digested the words spoken with a much slower gate than his usual comprehension.

His mind began to churn.

Surely not…not _again._

His inner monologue was cut short.

"An answer, if you please Severus."

Groaning to himself and rueing the day he ever clapped eyes on Harry Potter, he jerked his head up and down stiffly.

"Yes headmaster" he added jerkily as an eyebrow was raised at his non verbalism.

Forcing himself to remain resolute, consisted, Albus raised his brows higher.

Standing gracefully, he wished he was about to do anything else, anywhere else than what he _was_ about to do.

He knew further words were meaningless, sometimes…words failed a situation.

…and this was that such situation.

"On your feet then" he commanded, not unkindly, and was relieved when after a brief glare the younger educator obliged.

The two locked eyes for a moment, before Dumbledore swept out from behind the desk.

The relief soon turned to mild exasperation, that was tempered with a much stronger bout of sympathy based empathy.

He should have known the compliance was too good to be true.

Backing away in evident chagrin, Snape conjured up a mere ghost of his sneering front.

"This is hardly necessary" he barked, but with little bite, "I have already apologised."

Merely crossing over to the ornately carved couch in the corner of his office, Dumbledore sat himself down with an expression of serenity that he did not feel.

"Come here Severus" he instructed softly, closing his eyes briefly in a bout of weariness. The young man in front of him would never know how much it pained him to do the things he did to keep him safe…even from himself.

He watched quietly, as his professor battled internally.

Seeing that no decision was forthcoming, he cleared his throat.

"Severus…to me, please."

The paling of the already perilous pallor made his heart sink, but he remained firm. With an appreciable difficulty.

That difficulty was made all the more difficult with the one, quiet and loaded word that spilled forth from his wards mouth.

"No."

…

TBC

…


	4. Big Picture

Dumbledore peered out from over the rim of his half spectacles, stifling a hearty sigh. Running his blue eyes over the tense poise that was the form of his Potion's master, he deliberated. Briefly.

"Why?"

Snape's eyes widened with incredulity as he stared back at the elderly, yet youthful man who was responsible for so much in his life.

"What do you mean _why?"_ he bit out, gesturing at the seated position that was jarring him so.

Dumbledore merely pondered him quietly for a moment, before seeming to come to the correct conclusion about the younger man's reservations.

He let out a small tinkering chuckle despite himself.

"No Severus" he laughed softly, "the days where I am fit enough to haul you across my knee are more than long gone, you'll be glad to hear."

The tense posture instantly dialled it down a notch.

"I merely wish to speak with you without the formality of a desk between us" the older wizard reassured gently, patting the seat beside him with an irritating patience. "I believe the conversation I had with you after your last disagreement with professor Trelawney _also_ stipulated that you would speak to me freely, outside the bounds of headmaster to professor?"

He patted the couch again.

"This is all that this is, although I appreciate how difficult it is for you and I do not take any pleasure in insisting upon it."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes Snape after some deliberation, stiffly stalked towards the couch and sat with an equal stiffness as far away as humanly possible from the man beside him.

Not that he'd show it, but this was much to Albus' amusement.

"So…" he continued conversationally, "what do you suggest we do about this unfortunate situation?"

The rigid posture tightened instantly.

"Why aren't you asking Lupin that as well?" he bit out through a clenched jaw, once again cursing his ridiculous attempt to protect that cursed Potter boy.

This time Dumbledore couldn't repress the instinctual sigh. It was like a merry go round with the deeply complex man beside him. For years it had been a dance between them, a waltz to the tune of one step forwards and two steps backwards.

"I am not enquiring this of Remus because from the recounting of events, however brief, you have shared with me…this would appear to be a situation of your making?"

A tense silence sprung up between the two men, so intense in its presence that it seemed to almost form a brick wall in the centre of the cushioned couch.

"My making?" Snape eventually echoed softly.

Another silence.

"Please don't misunderstand me Severus" murmured Albus in self correction, "I know there is two of you involved in this, I was merely referring to the fact that you laid hands on a colleague. Remus, whatever else his role in this…situation, did not."

Snape relaxed somewhat at the explanation, not that it was visible on the exterior. His unperturbed expression remained resolutely plastered upon his pale face, as he stared adamantly into the distance.

"Like I said headmaster, you have my apologies for the incident. I appreciate it was…unbecoming of me, and I assure you there will be no repeat performance."

He took a breath.

"Now…if you would indulge me, I would very much like to return to my class."

There was no immediate answer. Underneath the mop of silvery hair, a mind was whirring, at an exceptional pace.

There was no question as to the fact that he didn't have enough information to truly press or correct the issue with his protégée of sorts. Whilst he had…utilised more traditional methods of discipline with Severus in the not so distant pass, he was loathe to do so when he didn't have the information required.

He simply would not do it.

He was also apprehensive that any action taken by him now may destabilise the very tentative beginnings of a change in the infamous Potter/Snape relationship. Severus may think him more oblivious than he would care to admit, but he remained adamantly sure that Harry lay at the core of this grievance between his professors.

He came to his decision. He knew Severus was trying to escape his office without any ramifications whatsoever, and whilst he _wasn't_ going to…ensure sitting was an unpleasant feat, this time at least, there _were_ going to be repercussions.

"Very well, very well" Albus eventually muttered quietly, "but…just one thing, before you go back to your…eager I'm sure, students?"

Rolling his eyes at the thinly veiled sarcasm, Snape inclined his head. All the while thanking his lucky stars that nearly strangling the man's _pet werewolf_ hadn't resulted in any more than a tame lecture.

…right?

Wrong.

Dumbledore drew a breath.

This…wasn't going to be pretty.

"I would like for you to chaperone the next month's worth of the trial run of second year visits to Hogsmeade."

A pin could be heard if it had dared to drop in the opulent office.

Snape shook his head slightly, disrupting the curtain of hair that nestled around his ears, certain he had heard incorrectly.

"Come again?" he inquired icily, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

Dumbledore bit his lip to suppress both a hearty chuckle and a firm rebuke for the tone.

"I am not tolerating brawling in my school Severus. If you are so desperate to act as a child, I feel it is only fitting that you should be in their company. Not to worry however, Remus shall be joining you, as he kindly volunteered last week."

Snape gaped in abject horror at the serenely calm wizarding icon beside him.

"You cannot be serious" he eventually manage to spit out, the idea of shepherding a hoard of screeching brats around the village making his very organs shudder.

Albus' benign expression suddenly became somber.

"Oh I _am_ serious Severus" he contradicted quietly, "and I should hope that you do not need a reminder that whilst this office bears my name, the professors of this school shall accept my decisions. Particularly in cases where they would be wise to realise when they are to all intent and purposes looking a gift horse in the mouth."

Snape stared unseeingly.

For a while that was.

Until Dumbledore's gaze shifted directionally to the ornate desk.

The message was clear, and as repulsive as dragging a swarm of over excited twelve year olds around was, being…upended over that desk was even more so.

"Have I made myself understood Severus?" Dumbledore inquired gently, loathing the fact that he was essentially ensuring four weekends worth of misery for his young professor.

He waited patiently as Severus gathered his thoughts, playing idly with his thumbs.

The eventual and thoroughly muted "yes headmaster" was all he needed to hear, and a smile played upon the elder man's face as the words registered in his mind.

He tried, and failed, to resist the urge to quickly reach out and squeeze Snape's shoulder.

It was perhaps a testament to the progress in their relationship that the younger wizard didn't shake it off.

"No more resorting to scuffling in the staff room Severus" he concluded calmly. "You may return to your class now, with my apologies for your lateness."

Standing immediately, Snape gave a curt nod and made for the door.

Resting his hand upon the wrought iron handle, he fought with himself internally before turning back to face a rising Albus.

"A whole month?"

The dancing in the blue eyes was back.

"A whole month."

….

TBC

…

A/N: Next chapter(s) is/are more Harry/Snape-centric. I just wanted to set the tone for the relationship between Dumbledore and Snape in this chapter, as it's going to be needed later on!

Thanks for reading guys, and as this is my first HP fic, I'd appreciate you letting me know what you think, good or bad!

Cheers.


	5. Errors and Eateries

Looking up to the sounds of a short knock, his eyes swivelled to the time piece on his desk.

Right on time he noted, well then… at least that was something.

He subconsciously schooled his features into a stern expression, in accordance with the frank talk he'd had with himself.

He'd made an error.

A grievous error.

He'd allowed himself to see Lily through her offspring, and it had viciously clouded his judgement.

It simply wouldn't… _do_ to get attached to this boy.

He was James Potter's son as much as he was Lily's, and _nothing_ that could come from that inane buffoon could ever cause him anything but grief.

A plethora of grief.

He realised that he needed to correct that error, in the present moment, and to ensure he never did trespass upon its boundaries ever again.

"Enter" he called out in his silky voice, lazily flicking his wand and forcing a desk and chair to materialise out of thin air and place themselves in the centre of his office.

The door squeaked open, and a thoroughly mutinous looking Harry strode into the office.

"Potter" Snape greeted sardonically, indicating to the awaiting desk.

"Professor" Harry bit out acerbically, throwing himself down in his appointed place with a grace that was entirely less than desirable.

It was the first evening of the Gryffindor's two week stint of detention, and neither of the two wizards in the room were exactly thrilled by their fortnightly forecast of company.

Sighing, Snape shot a deathly glare across the room.

"Would you care to adopt a more courteous demeanour Mr Potter, or should we make two weeks become four?"

It was an idle threat, delivered by a skilled actor.

He no more wanted the boy who lived, or whatever the hell they were calling him these days in his office, any more than he wanted to _be_ there.

There was no need for the boy to know that however, and judging by the widening quality of those damned green eyes, his acting skills were on par with his expectations.

"Sorry Professor" the boy murmured hastily, looking down at the blank desk in front of him with an unpleasant curiosity.

"What uhh…am I going to be doing?" he added nervously, having more experience with Snape's merciless detention procedures than he cared to admit.

Snape merely eyed him wordlessly, before waving his wand with a silent incantation.

Before his eyes, a stack of parchment imprinted with the precise instructions for a vast array of potions appeared on his desk.

"There are ten separate potion methodologies on your desk Potter" the professor murmured lazily, dropping his gaze back to his stack of grading. "Take the first one, and begin writing it out. You will continue to write it out until I dismiss you. You will follow this pattern over the course of your detentions. At the end of the next two weeks, I expect you to be able to execute each and every single one of those potions."

He took a comfortable breath as he arched a brow down at a particularly moronic sentence of one of his hopeless second years.

"Get to it."

With that, the curtain of lank hair practically hid the gaunt face as the potions master scratched angrily at the parchment in front of him.

Silence ensued and Harry couldn't help but stare.

By Snape's standards…this punishment was positively _tame._ Sure he despised potions, and sure, it was tedious…but it was practically _soft_ in comparison to the many torturous hours of cleaning he had spent in this office.

"Did I stutter, Mr Potter?" Snape suddenly inquired, his voice leaking with a velvety sarcasm.

Jerking out of his reverie, the kid shook his tousled head and pulled the first sheaf of parchment towards him. A fresh scroll and ink suddenly appeared and he quietly got to work.

A supreme silence blanketed the office as the two occupants worked steadily. Harry's mind was drifting off towards the upcoming quidditch season, whilst Snape's was wondering how a person could make it into the fifth year with only the one brain cell evident.

As he started writing out the lengthy potion procedure for the eleventh time, Harry shivered despite himself. He had assumed that the complete lack of a fire in the empty grate on a winters evening was simply to make him suffer. The stubborn streak in him had refused to make his discomfort known, until a particularly gusty draught settled around his collar.

His mind also refused to acknowledge that his hands were now bordering on raw with the bitter chill.

Snape, who had been completely lost in a thankfully passable essay, caught the involuntary movement out of the corner of his eye.

His gaze drifted upwards, and then to the lifeless grate and the now clammy looking boy

He cursed himself.

He, himself, did not feel the cold but it had been pointed out to him on occasion that _normal_ people did.

Pointing his wand in the fires direction, he murmured quietly and a millisecond letter a roaring fire illuminated the stone walls. The warming effect was nearly immediate.

He caught the wondering look being sent at him from the bespectacled eyes and waved a dismissive hand.

"Dampness will set in if a fire isn't lit nightly" he lied brusquely in explanation, before dropping his head firmly back into his grading.

His mind stilled.

Since _when_ did he give explanations to students?

Scratch that.

Since _when_ did he give explanations to _Potter?_

Scratch that.

Since _when_ did he give an owls hoot about that maddening boy's _comfort?_

He sighed internally. A couple of months ago and he couldn't have cared if the child had turned into an iceberg in front of him, and now…now it was different.

He cursed himself again.

This situation was getting wildly out of hand.

Lily's face danced in his mind, and he scowled as he tried to push it away. His inner mind scathingly told the beaming woman of his consciousness that his current affliction was entirely her fault.

Her face merely beamed some more before he forced it to fade into nothingness, with one last flash of those piercing eyes.

…those eyes.

They were responsible for so much imbalance in his current world.

They were responsible right now, for the fact that the boy was essentially merely writing lines. Had it been a few months ago, a more original Snape punishment of hammering out nicks and dents in the school cauldrons would have been used.

Without a second thought.

Harry for his part, just about managed to turn his mildly gaping expression back to his own work. Had Snape lit that fire for… _him?_

He shook his head in derision.

That was ridiculous.

Snape wouldn't care if the sweat on his face literally froze there.

His quill began to scratch out the start of the fifteenth scribing of the now memorised potion method.

Another hour or so trickled by without further interruption, but upon hearing a rumbling from the centre of the room Snape looked up yet again and sighed in exasperation.

"Potter… did you eat before you came here?"

A sheepish expression looked back at him.

"Uhh…no sir, I got caught up with erm…homework, and I would have been late."

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes and this lamest of all excuses, Snape glanced at the hourglass on his desk and the amount of work the boy had accomplished.

He was relatively satisfied with both.

"That will do for this evening" he instructed, "off you go, same time tomorrow night."

Harry didn't need telling twice, and he scrambled to his feet, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he went. His murmured "goodnight Professor" was uttered just as he got to the door… and just as he was stopped in his tracks.

"Potter…"

Heart sinking, the young man turned back and looked politely expectant in the direction of Snape's desk.

"Sir?"

Snape hesitated, and Harry's confusion kicked up another notch.

He couldn't recall a time when he'd ever witnessed the man who had tormented him mercilessly _hesitate._

His confusion was soon answered, but only to be replaced by another, stronger, bout.

"Make sure that you…eat something, before you retire" the teacher directed quietly, dropping his gaze downwards, completely amazed that those words had just slipped out of his mouth.

He could feel the confused gaze scorching into his being, and he raised a dismissive hand and tried to regain his usual brusque bordering on menacing, demeanour. Whipping his wand through the air once more, a platter of sandwiches appeared, followed swiftly by a tankard of pumpkin juice.

Harry scrambled to pick them up under the penetrating gaze, his own mind whirring with surprise.

"I neither want nor need Madam Pomfrey in here looking for my blood because you are to asinine to feed yourself Potter… now, get out."

In an attempt to further restore order, he bit out another abrupt order.

"…and remember no quidditch, grounds or anything other than classes and meals. Clear?"

He could sense a presence in the room with him for only a moment more, before a murmured "yes Professor" and a soft snapping shut of the door alerted him to its absence.

The light footsteps could be heard briefly as the kid trotted away from the dungeons and up into the main body of the castle. It was perhaps a blessing in the embryonic stages of change between Professor and pupil that it was only Harry's footsteps that could be heard, and not his thoughts.

When the last sounds diminished, Snape threw down the quill that was resting uselessly in his hand.

Dropping his head into his hands, he groaned to himself in the now private confines of his office.

"You _fool_."

….

TBC

….


	6. Connection of Dreams

Harry tossed and turned in his bed late at night, a blinding nightmare hammering its way through his slumbering mind. Her voice penetrated every fibre of his brain, unrelenting in its gate. Sweat poured down his back as he tossed fitfully, blinding bursts of green light swam in and out of his hazy focus.

…and then he was awake.

Sitting up with a pounding heart and a laboured breath, the thirteen year old gasped as he accustomed to his consciousness. Glancing wildly around the dorm, he saw Ron lying in a state of deep sleep, his snored joining in with the rest of the boys' as they all slept peacefully around him.

Grabbing his glasses from the nightstand, he thrust them on his face forcefully and swung his legs from his comfortable bed. With a still hammering heart beat, he gently padded from the tower room, and rapidly descended the stairs that led to the thoroughly deserted common room.

Heaving himself into his familiar chair by the smouldering fire, he gazed unseeingly into the dying amber remnants.

It had been so real.

She may as well have standing over his bed, just like she had stood over his cot, screaming for his life. Pleading for the continuation of his very existence.

Pleading with a less than being who cared not for the instincts of an earthly mother.

He stared some more.

As bad as his father's frantic instructions had been to her, his terrified mother's screams were ten times worse.

His gaze ran over his body.

She had given her life for him, so he could sit where he sat. So he could grow as he'd grown. She'd done it in a heartbeat, hadn't even thought about it.

Grateful for the seclusion of his seating as the tears pricked his eyes, Harry curled up on the cushioned chair.

The slowing beating of his heart was calming him enough to fully process the horrific nightmare…and he didn't care for it.

He couldn't deal with it.

Not now…not all alone, in the middle of the night. A single tear escaped their emerald prison and sailed down his cheek, closely followed by another.

The injustice of is short life engulfed him as he sat.

He thought of Ron and the family he had at home. The family that essentially welcomed him as one of their own.

He would never know how lucky he was.

Shaking his head, he bit his lip in an effort to get a hold of himself. The effect that the dementors had on him caused him to redden for the hundredth time as he cursed their very existence.

What he really needed now was some air.

It always made him feel better, a stroll around the gardens. Glancing out the window, he assessed the inky blackness that lay outwards and discounted the grounds.

The owlery though…

He could visit Hedwig and gulp down some air from the tower.

Scrambling to his feet to go and grab the invisibility cloak, his heart sank. It was under Ron's mattress, that was currently supporting his friends sleeping frame.

They had put it there for safekeeping after their last…debacle.

His mind whirred.

He _needed_ fresh air. It was the only thing that never failed to calm him down enough to get back off to sleep.

Biting his lip, he assessed his options.

The likelihood of him getting caught was slim. Plus, there was no _danger_ in the tower, it wasn't as if Sirius Black was living on a perch up there.

He thought some more.

He'd kept his nose pretty clean since his last encounter with Snape and the ensuing detentions that had ended a few weeks ago.

He could afford to take a chance.

Just…just this once.

He deliberately didn't think of what Hermione would say if she were there, as he set off towards the portrait hole.

The night was balmy, so he didn't bother ducking upstairs for his robe.

Peering around the canvas that thankfully didn't stir, he noted with relief that the corridors were completely deserted. Stepping tentatively out, he carefully stepped away from the frame with agile steps and began hastening in the direction of the owl quarters.

He met no one as he carefully ducked around corners, his sock clad feet padding quietly along the halls.

He was soon barrelling up the staircase and into the nesting owl room. Hedwig instantly opened amber eyes as if sensing his presence and flew down from her perch to land on his shoulder. Nipping his shoulder very softly, she let out a quiet hoot as if asking for a job.

Stroking her snowy head, Harry carried her on his shoulder out onto the turret, murmuring that he had no job for her. Quite content with this, the bird stayed with her owner as the two stared into the night sky.

Harry drank in the crisp air with a gusto. He instantly felt his insides begin to dispense with their writhing, and his pulse slowed to a normal rhythm.

How long he stayed there, he didn't know. It was only when Hedwig began to sway slightly on his shoulder with oncoming sleep, that he was jerked from his reverie.

Carrying her inside, he watched as she flew back to her perch with an affectionate nip, he quietly slipped out of the heavy wooden door and began descending the stair case. His head felt a lot lighter, but he could sense that his eyes were still red rimmed.

Padding out onto the main body corridor, he hastened to make it back to Gryffindor tower before Filch or Peeves appeared out of nowhere and accosted him.

He shuddered at the thought.

He grew so lost in his thoughts as he traipsed through the sleeping school that he didn't take as much notice of his surroundings as he had been doing.

Didn't strain his ears as he had been doing.

Definitely didn't strain his _eyes_ as he had been doing.

…and that was why, he was nearly winded as he slapped into a sudden obstacle in his path with such force that it set his glasses askew.

Panting slightly and being rudely awoken from his inner monologue, he backed up expecting to see a suit of armour that he had stupidly banged into.

…though the collision had been quite _soft_ and there were no answering sounds of clanging metal.

Thrusting his glasses back on the right way, he looked up in relative annoyance.

That annoyance quickly turned to horror.

Abstract, spine tingling horror.

There, wearing a look that would curdle the freshest of milk and still dressed in his usual black attire, stood one insomnia riddled Severus Snape.

Before Harry could formulate syllables, never mind _words,_ he felt the scruff of his collar being clutched and suddenly he was being propelled forwards.

He tried to speak, he really did, but the gate of his enforced pace coupled with the positively alarming look on his Professor's face caused the words to die a quick death in his windpipe.

His stomach sank as he saw he was being projected towards the dungeons, and most likely, Snape's office.

Those fears were confirmed as the familiar door suddenly loomed large in front of him, before he was summarily dragged through it.

Releasing his hold on the boy, Snape set him down in front of his desk before swooping around to his side of it and staring an icy look of death across the polished surface.

"What is the _meaning_ of this Potter?" be barked out in raw anger, his usual velvety tones of sarcasm being dispensed with.

Harry balked as he tried to open his mouth. His heart that had been so soothed, began hammering away in his chest once more.

"Sir" he ground out weakly, "please…it's not what it looks like, I-"

"Not what it _looks like?"_ Snape interjected in furious disbelief, "you nearly _knock me down_ in the halls of this school in the _middle of the night_ and you stand there and you tell me, that it's not what it _looks like?"_

If ever there was a time where Harry was tempted to merely run from a Professor's office, this was it.

The man in front of him was paler than usual and the black eyes seem to burn with an inextinguishable rage.

Snape for his part couldn't believe either his eyes or his ears, the happenings of the last five minutes causing him such anger it was all he could to not to _throttle_ the kid.

Out of bed, out of bounds in the middle of the night where no one knew where he was. With a manic murderer on the loose with a hit list of one.

His gut churned as he thought of Lily, and what she would think of her son meandering into such danger.

"Answer me!" he suddenly heard himself nearly bellowing at the boy who flinched involuntarily.

The shuffling from foot to foot was annoyingly cutting into his rage, as he stared at the boy who lived who any minute, if he didn't start talking, was going to be boy who _didn't_ live.

Harry flushed a deadly red as he assessed his options once again.

Snape just _knew_ if he lied. He always did, with him, with anyone. It was like a maddening natural skill and he knew that if he didn't tell the truth, things would just get worse.

…if they _could_ get worse.

Knowing he was handing the man months of taunting ammunition, he squared his shoulders and reminded himself that he was a _Gryffindor,_ and locked his green eyes with those windowless black ones.

"I had a bad dream" he murmured, feeling the heat in his face rise, "I just wanted to get some air. It…it always makes me feel better."

Snape blinked.

Whatever he was expecting to hear, it wasn't that.

He ran a gaze over the boy more carefully and saw that he was telling him the truth, he _also_ saw the slightly puffy redness under those infernal eyes that let him know the kid had been crying.

He blinked again.

"What…what was the nature of this…dream?"

Wait.

Who in the name of _god_ just said that?

He looked down and around.

Did _he_ say that?"

In that…that disgustingly gentle tone?

Judging by the look of confusion looking back at him, he _did_ just say that.

"It…" Harry began stutteringly, not being able to explain _why_ he was saying what he was saying "it was about my…mother."

A silence hung in the air.

Snape stared at Harry, and Harry at Snape.

The situation was so surreal that the two of them were speechless for a moment.

Snape raised a brow, and once again wondered was he under the imperio curse as he spoke.

"…have you had this dream before?"

The boy hesitated for a second, before nodding.

"It's mostly…mostly just her screaming, trying to…to save me from…him."

A tidal wave of regret, guilt and misery hit Severus square in the jaw as he digested this. His youthful malice being the cause of the misery spewing forth from this boy's mouth.

 _Her_ boy.

"Did they start after the dementors got here?"

Feeling more and more confused as the lack of shouting and declaration of a years detention, Harry nodded numbly.

"Yes sir."

Why was he telling _Snape_ this?

So he could wheedle and belittle him about it in front of the entire potions class at the earliest available opportunity?

Suddenly, his Professor was moving, and he braced himself for a tirade automatically.

Instead, the man merely swept passed him and opened his vial cabinet that stood in the corner of the room. The only sounds to be heard in the next few moments were that of tinkering bottles as he searched through the collection.

Harry's heart plummeted.

What was he going to be forced to drink?

How could he have been so stupid to think that Snape had thawed towards him? That the nearly humane side he had showed him in all those detentions could _mean_ anything?

Eventually, the teacher withdrew from the corner, clutching a large vial of yellow liquid.

Crossing the room to his student, he brusquely grabbed his hand and pressed the container into it.

"This is a draught for dreamless sleep. It is more potent than anything Madam Pomfrey will have in her stores, and should be used in no more than one drop increments. Take one drop every night before you go to bed, and you will have no dreams, bad or otherwise Mr Potter."

The tickling sensation in his tonsils was not unpleasant as he gaped.

Snape, for his part, being highly uncomfortable with the emotions that conflicted within him, swung around to his side of the desk once more.

"Mitigating circumstances or not, wandering around the castle after hours is an unfortunate habit of yours", he gestured for Harry to sit in the chair indicated, "and it is one that I am _personally_ going to see that you break."

Gulping, the young Gryffindor sat as directed, bewildered by the return to brusque tones.

"One way or another Mr Potter, you are _going_ to learn, that the rules of this school apply as much to _you,_ as anyone else in this infernal school.

…

TBC

…


	7. Night to Day

Looking over at the low hanging, old fashioned futon sofa in the corner of his office, Snape shook his head in abject disbelief once more. There, snoring softly on it, covered in _his_ cloak, was none other than Harry Potter.

He was vehemently glad it was still the middle of the night, because _really,_ should anyone happen in across this scene, he was quite sure that his reputation would never recover.

Pulling a stack of grading towards him, he was thankful for his little sleep requirements. Scratching a quill across one of his better student's parchment, his eyes annoyingly flickered over the boy.

Just in case.

Scolding himself for being so utterly ridiculous, he dropped his head back to the essay in front of him but his thoughts were whirring, and they weren't potion based.

He had intended to utterly chew the boy out, issue dire consequences for his asinine behaviour and send him on his way back to his dormitory.

…but it hadn't quite happened like that.

Harry's eyes, even to him, had been full of fear at the thoughts of returning to his dorm. After putting him on detention for another week, Snape had caught the glint of fear and sighed. After suffering through years of childhood nightmares himself, he knew that returning to the place where they most commonly happened could be daunting.

He had then snapped to Harry that he could sleep on the futon, because frankly he didn't need him waking up the rest of his irritating little Gryffindor friends, whom he would have to suffer in their sleep deprived state in the morning.

His lips twitched as he thought of that explanation, as he checked the sleeping form once more.

It was quite credible.

Quite credible indeed.

His brow furrowed however when he registered the _real_ reason he hadn't sent her maddening offspring packing.

He didn't have to admit it to anyone else, but he _did_ need to admit to himself.

The growing feelings of care, of giving a damn, for the boy were indeed growing. He had tried to stomp them out. Tried to bury them deep in the core of his supposedly icy soul, but he couldn't quite manage it.

He didn't know if the protective stance that was beginning to take a stranglehold of him was a result of suppressed guilt, or because the kid actually wasn't all that bad.

He snuck another glance over at the slumbering, cloak covered ball, and smirked.

It was suppressed, transferred guilt.

It had to be.

… _had to be…_

He shook his head once more and not the first time wondered how in the hell his world had been so thoroughly blown off its axis, but in a creeping way.

A subtle way.

In a way that he didn't notice until it was too damn late.

He kept working, and flicking his gaze across at Harry, and before long the gentle dawn sun was beginning to spill into the room.

Glancing at the clock, Snape yawned slightly and stood quietly. Making his tentative way so as not to wake the still sleeping gatecrasher, he swept up the stairs into his quarters.

A quick wash and a change of clothes and he was back down, looking the exact same.

He glanced at the still sleeping boy and frowned.

Really now, it was the middle of the day. Just as he was about to prod the kid into consciousness, he stirred of his own volition.

Snape stood quietly as the transition from slumbering to awakening took place.

He had to admit it was hilarious.

The way those eyes widened in shock as the young Gryffindor woke to find _him_ to be the first thing in his visual sweep. The way he scrambled off the couch with muttered apologies for being there in the first place. The way he looked down in confusion at the pyjamas he was wearing.

Within seconds the memories of last night seemed to replay in the kid's head, and he looked up at his professor apprehensively.

God he was so like her.

"Sir," he stuttered anxiously, "please don't tell Du-"

Snape cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I don't intend to burden the headmaster with the many escapades of Harry Potter," he drawled sarcastically, "unless of course, you are late to my lesson."

He checked the clock once more.

"Which you will be, if you do not get a move on Potter."

Harry gaped.

There was no mocking.

There was no sneering.

There were no gleeful promises to inform his Slytherin's that Harry Potter had crashed on Severus Snape's sofa because he was having bad freaking dreams.

Wondering if he was _still_ dreaming, Harry subtly pinched himself.

It stung.

He was awake.

"If you are quite satisfied as to the state of your alert consciousness Potter, I really must insist that you return to your house, and prepare for the school day."

Reddening slightly at his obvious lack of subtly, Harry nodded jerkily. Glancing down at his night dress clad state, he reddened further.

The school was moving above him.

There was absolutely no way he could get back to Gryffindor tower without a ton of people seeing his less than groomed condition.

Suddenly Snape's hand was moving, and he blinked.

Before looking down and breathing a sigh of relief at his transfigured state. He was fully dressed in his Gryffindor uniform, with not a pyjama item in sight.

"Anything else?" Snape murmured with a hint of sarcasm, "Perhaps I could organise room service for you?"

Harry found himself grinning.

In Snape's office.

Having spent the night there.

…and surviving. With all his limbs and vital organs unscathed and accounted for.

It was supremely bizarre.

It was one of the most surreal things to ever happen to him at Hogwarts.

Which was indeed, saying something.

"No thanks Sir;" he laughed nervously, "I'll just go now, then…"

Snape rolled his eyes and pointed towards the door.

"I entrust Ms Granger with the heavy task of ensuring yourself and Mr Weasley make it to class on time in the normal sense Potter, but now you are testing even _her_ skills."

"Right," Harry murmured, before making his way towards the door and hesitating with his hand on the latch.

Surely he should say something.

"Uhh…thanks for-"

" _Out_ Potter."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He scarpered.

Clambering into the portrait hole, he saw Ron sitting in their usual seats beside the fire looking at him in bewilderment.

"Where've you _been?"_

Harry blinked.

"Uhh….up in the owlery with Hedwig. I woke early and fancied some fresh air," he lied guiltily, not at all ready to explain whatever the hell was going on between himself and Snape.

Mostly because he had no _idea_ what was going on between himself and Snape.

It was inexplicable.

Ron nodded his head in easy acceptance of this falsehood, and Harry felt his guilt rise. He hated lying, especially to Ron or Hermione.

She herself, melted in the common room as he thought it, and smiled at both of them in greeting before pushing them out of the room with dire thought of tardiness.

Sitting down to breakfast in the Great Hall, Ron was murmuring mutinously about their upcoming double potions class, with a less than flattering commentary on their professor.

"He's not _that_ bad," Harry eventually blurted out, before he could stop himself.

He was met with identical looks of shock.

" _What?"_ Ron demanded in surprised, looking at his best friend as if he were gravely ill. Hermione too, tilted her head in utter confusion.

"I uhh…I mean that he's…well, Dumbledore thinks he's good so…" he garbled nonsensically, blushing heavily under their searching stares.

He thought, to his horror, there was an inkling of comprehension in Hermione's eyes, but Ron continued to look merely flabbergasted.

"Are you sick mate?"

Harry was spared answering this, when Hermione butted in and utterly changed the conversation, and Harry knew he _had_ seen that flicker of understanding, he hadn't imagined it.

 _Wonderful,_ he thought to himself miserably, spooning cornflakes into him in a half hearted kind of way.

Before long, they were making their way to potions class and Harry was beginning to feel sick with worry.

What if the…understanding or whatever the hell it was that was going on between himself and Snape was all a figment of his imagination?

What if the man mortified himself in front of the entire class?

What if he told them all he had basically been too much of a child to sleep in his own dorm last night?

His stomach churned.

Lining up outside the classroom, Gryffindor's on one side and Slytherin's on the other, he hadn't even the heart to glare at Malfoy as he habitually mocked him.

They all fell silent as Snape's familiar gate began to be heard, and before long the man had swept into view.

Harry braced himself.

…but Snape merely barrelled past him as always, without a second glance, without anything out of the ordinary whatsoever.

He breathed slightly easier as he followed Ron and Hermione to their usual seat.

The class began as it always did, and it became clear that Snape, at that moment anyway, had no intention of behaving any differently towards Harry than he usually did.

His breathing came even easier to him.

As this was one of their rare non practical lessons, he found his mind begin to wander as Snape's voice vibrated around the room.

He _did_ despise potions after all.

That, at least, had not changed.

He was so tired….

His broken sleep was catching up with him, and after forty minutes of monotonous lecturing, he found his eyes begin to droop.

Before long his head was lolling on to his chest, his sleepiness unnoticed by Ron who was equally inattentive, and Hermione, who sat rapt with attention.

A tall Gryffindor in front of him blocked him from Snape's view, and before long he was utterly in the grips of sleep.

…and that's when the voices started.

One high, uncaring….purposeful.

One shrieking, hysterical…protective.

The familiar battle of murder facing off against motherhood.

He twitched violently in his sleep as the flashing green light soared across his sub consciousness, and as his mother's screaming echoed in his ears with a deafening pitch.

…but, she wasn't the only one screaming.

 _He was screaming._

In the middle of a crowded classroom, being shaken anxiously by a horrified looking Ron and Hermione.

Jolting fully into consciousness, Harry blinked and found the entire ensemble of the third year Gryffindor's and Slytherin's gawping in his direction.

Even Malfoy looked utterly shocked.

Harry flinched as Snape swooped down on him, looking down with an expression that was completely indecipherable.

Thrusting the book he was reading from at Hermione who caught it in trembling fingers, he glanced down at Harry once again with that expression once more before speaking.

"Ms Granger….kindly take over from where I left off. I will return momentarily."

He then took Harry by the elbow and pulled him from his seat. Ron bit his lip against the instinct to reach out and grab his friend back from the grasp.

Harry for his part, wobbled slightly as he stood, and looked up at the man who was causing so much conflicting emotions within him, and gulped.

Surely this was the end for him.

Snape eyed him for another moment, before bodily turning him in the direction of the potion's door.

"Mr Potter," he murmured quietly…"you, on the other hand, are coming with me."

…

TBC

…

A/N: Tbh, I'd lost the will to write this one, hence the late update, but a sick day from work and the resultant Harry Potter binge put me right back on it. Please let me know what you guys' think/want to see, because I've no set plot line in mind, so I can incorporate things that you want to read!

-Inks.


	8. Worlds Collide

"Professor, I'm sorry…I-", hurrying along the empty halls, Harry was cut off by a raised hand. Gulping, he fell silent as he trailed after his dangerously silent teacher, wondering just where the hell they were going. He was positively sure, that this unknown destination wasn't anywhere he particularly wanted to be. So, when they came to a sudden halt outside an empty classroom, his nerves were instantly tingling in warning apprehension. Swallowing down his reservations, as he had no damned choice in the matter, he inched into the room, skirting by Snape as he held the door ajar.

That same door closed shut with a snap, as the professor pointed to a desk in front of the teacher's podium with a surprisingly quiet "sit, Potter." Feeling distinctly numb around the edges, with the dredges of his mothers screaming still ringing in his ears, Harry did as he was told. Again, really, what other option _was_ there? He flinched instinctively as Snape, instead of sweeping to the teaching desk, perched on the side of the table he was seated at.

"Look at me, Potter," he commanded, and Harry slowly wrenched his gaze upwards, utterly unprepared for the mocking commentary he was sure was about to spew forth and coat him in its viciousness. But the look on Snape's face was…well it was _odd._ It wasn't definable, and certainly not habitual. Harry found himself frowning in confusion as that expression bore down upon him, accompanied with a raised brow.

"How are you feeling?"

It was a relatively simple question, quite similar to "what time is it?" or "what lesson have we got next?" but as Harry gaped, he might as well have been asked to explain the meaning of life. He found himself stuttering and stammering over the equally simple "huh?" he eventually managed to offer, his mind whirring with the now rapidly consuming conundrum that was Severus Snape. The same Snape was forced to bite his lip to prevent the natural, acidic retort to the less than impressive "huh?" and closed his eyes briefly.

"You were screaming Mr Potter," he rephrased, "I am inquiring as to the state of your health, in the immediate aftermath of such."

The boy blinked so rapidly he was in danger of splattering his glasses with irritation based tears.

"Why?"

Harry couldn't help it. It was the most obvious question. A year ago Snape had all but professed a burning disappointment that he hadn't either been beaten to death by a violently volatile tree, or at the very least, expelled. And yet, now, here he was…apparently of his own volition, chit chatting about such mundane topics, such as the mental health of the student he went out his way to wheedle, torture and torment. It was as confusing as an intelligent Crabbe, or a pleasant Malfoy. It didn't sit in tandem with the natural order, and Harry was having one hell of a time trying to get his thirteen year old brain around it.

Snape for his part could have asked himself the same question, but being a man of academia, he already knew the answer. He just didn't _like_ the answer. He _really_ didn't like the answer. But, it was what it was, and they were where they were, and this whole horrific situation would be made slightly more tolerable if this infernal boy would master the art of speaking in something _other_ than monosyllables.

"Because I am _asking_ Mr Potter," Snape drawled, in superb deflection, "I believe, as a teacher, that is my right." Gnawing on his lip, Harry had to hand the man that. Looking down at his hands, he fidgeted in his chair, before bursting out into speech that made Snape question, not for the first time, if children in neighbouring lands were _quite_ as irksome as his nations youth. He rather doubted, on the whole, that they were. "I'm sorry I fell asleep in your lesson sir," Harry was muttering miserably, "I was just…tired. Look, you can give me more detention or whatever."

Snape raised a brow.

" _Can_ I indeed?" he drawled, "Why _thank you_ for your permission Mr Potter, that indeed makes my job considerably easier."

Harry reddened.

"I didn't mean it like that, I just mean that-", Snape once again cut him off with a raised hand. "Control yourself Potter," he instructed, but not unkindly, "I assure you, I have neither interest nor inclination in punishing you for falling asleep in my lesson."

The startled Gryffindor gaped.

"You don't?" he asked incredulously, and watched with mounting confusion at what he could have _sworn_ was a fleeting smile cross Snape's face, as he shook his head. "I don't," he confirmed silkily, "I _am_ however, inclined to have my question answered, _at your leisure_ , of course."

There was a brief silence as Harry struggled to even recall said question, and a slightly less brief silence, as he struggled to answer it. What kind of a question was _how are you feeling_ anyway? How did the man _think_ he felt? How did a normal person feel listening to their mother throw themselves at the mercy of a murderer, to protect their child from instant death? He shook his head, the asinine quality of the question suddenly grating on his nerves.

"Peachy," he muttered mutinously, sifting his gaze downwards, "I feel just _peachy."_ The minute the words were out his mouth, he cursed himself. He was in the rare, the _oh so incredibly rare_ , position of having a siesta in _Snape's_ class and getting away with it, and he had to go and get mouthy. Looking up tentatively, expecting to see the familiar snarl looking down at him, his confusion was once again peaked as the look that adorned his teacher's face could very well be accused of being… _understanding._

Harry felt his earth shift on his axis.

Ignoring the cheek of his student with an easiness that frankly astounded him, Snape racked his brain. He usually dealt with things with a clinical adherence to experience. But…he sure as hell didn't have any experience with students; especially one's named Potter, who took a snooze during his lesson, before proceeding to scream bloody murder in the midst of their slumber. He ran an appraising gaze over the boy, and sighed.

The bags under his eyes were dark, and hadn't appeared overnight. His face was pale, and somewhat gaunt. His eyes bloodshot and generally haggard. All tell tale signs of sleep disruption, and the signs he remembered all too well from his own turbulent childhood. Being cognisant of the fact that he'd left his class in the hands of a teenage girl, he thought all the more rapidly.

"That potion I gave you this morning Potter, you must take it tonight, you understand?"

The boy nodded immediately.

"And you must take yourself to bed as early as possible tonight. That potion works best when it has a lengthier application, which can be petered out over time. But in the beginning, it is imperative you are in your bed no later than eight o' clock. Do you understand?"

The gaping, wide eyed expression staring at back at him would indicate that Potter did _not_ understand. Snape closed his eyes wearily, and wondered if this was his purgatory. Dealing with children, who apparently spoke English as their first language, and yet, seemed unable to understand a word of it.

"What part of what I just said is causing you such consternation, Mr Potter?"

Harry flushed.

"It's just…it's just, well… I have detention with you tonight sir, remember?"

To the kid's intense, unparalleled and utter astonishment, Snape waved a dismissive hand. "We will re arrange your detentions, for such time as you are capable of getting through the school day without a little _catnap_ , Mr Potter."

Standing, he brushed down his robes and eyed a still gawping Harry sternly.

"Eight o'clock at the very _latest_ Potter, I will know if you defy me. Do you understand?"

Somehow, someway….the young Gryffindor managed to incline his head in a show of the requisite comprehension. "I must return to my lesson," Snape clipped in response, "and you may as well get yourself to the Great Hall. I am sure your friends will collect your belongings. Lunch will be soon underway in any case. Clear?"

Once again, the tousled dark head bobbed up and down, but under the mop of hair the mind was whirring. What if Snape, like Quirrell, was possessed? What if underneath that frame of hair, rested a less conspicuous, more deadly form of Voldemort. He instantly eyed the dank curtain suspiciously, as Snape moved to the door with instructions to get himself up and out of the classroom. Clambering slowly to his feet, his head still reeling from the bizarre morning he was living through, Harry kept a firm eye on all aspects of his teacher's head.

Standing back and allowing the boy to inch past him, Snape had to swallow down a rare chuckle as he correctly surmised what was going on in the kid's head, as he seemed to be desperately analysing every aspect of _his_ head. Snapping the door shut behind him, and resealing the classroom with a silent incantation, he looked down at the still staring offspring of the woman who was wreaking such havoc in his life, and allowed himself a small smirk.

"There was a reason Quirrell wore that ghastly turban, Mr Potter."

The last vision he had, before he turned and swept down the hall was that of the most confused looking child he had ever seen in his life.

Only when he was far away, did he allow himself the elusive chuckle and a very quiet bout of murmured speech.

"Oh Lily…he's yours alright."

…

TBC

….


	9. Summer Solutions

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Snape murmured as he glided into the opulent tower office. His impassive features disguised the irritation he felt about being summoned without clarification or reason. Nearly disguised it that was, with Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes catching the ire as he smiled serenely. Gesturing to the perch in front his desk, he leant back in his chair and rested his chin upon his interlocked fingers.

"How was your week, Severus?" he asked genially as the younger man settled himself stiffly, conjuring up a pot of tea that sat between the two of them, with an additional helping of digestives and butterfly buns. All of which were resolutely ignored as Snape raised a questioning brow. He _hated_ chit chat. Abhorred it, in fact. Dumbledore was acutely aware of that fact, and so, he was logically fishing. Not in any mood to be baited, Snape tilted his head to the side.

"Something on your mind, Headmaster?" he asked, his velvety tones making the question appear perhaps a jot less rude than it otherwise would have sounded. Not that he cared for mannerisms as a rule, but even he didn't dare to be outwardly aggressive to the man in front of him. He watched through black eyes as Albus smiled his knowing smile and spread his cloaked hands in a charade of dignified defeat.

"One of these days Severus I _will_ succeed in teaching you the art of untargeted conversation," he promised lightly, before straightening up in the high backed chair. "But alas, at the moment, you are quite right in your observations. There _is_ indeed a certain subject that I wish to discuss with you, if you would be so kind?"

Barely repressing the urge to roll his eyes, Snape nodded with a certain degree of curtness. If this was about yet _another_ cry baby Hufflepuff, whimpering and whining on about his teaching methods, he wasn't sure he could stand it. It really did those children _no_ favours the way Sprout continued to indulge their miserable tales of woe. He took a moment to pride himself on a job well done with his much hardier Slytherin's, before zoning back into the present conversation.

"Of course," he murmured, inclining his head in a show of deference.

Dumbledore nodded delightedly, as if this was an answer he hadn't expected to attain so easily. "I wish to speak with you…about your, shall we say, relationship of improvement with our friend Mr Potter. I have observed from afar for quite some time now, and I must confess myself heartily pleased with that I have seen Severus. Would you care to share the nature of your turnaround of sorts with the boy? I must admit, I am _extremely_ curious to know."

Snape stared.

His trademark sallow skin was beginning to take on a pink, bordering on crimson hue as he digested the question posed. The idea…the very _idea_ that he had let his mask slip so criminally so to as draw attention from Dumbledore himself was absolutely horrifying. He should have known, he had chided himself over and over again. The infernal Potter boy was melting him like the most struck down, globally warmed ice cap. He had grown to even _enjoy_ the boy's company over the last few months, taking a ridiculous pleasure in the marked improvement in his potions skills.

But…he hadn't accounted for this.

He hadn't accounted for the shame of being seen to give an owl's hoot being commonplace.

It was…intolerable.

Jolting back to his senses, with Dumbledore's keen gaze upon him, he raised his head high.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean, Headmaster."

The velvety tones were back in place, thick and dripping with a cool sarcasm. He would simply play this off as a horrific misunderstanding. He was after all, a practiced con man. He knew how to play a role, and how to execute it to standing ovation levels. He forced his jaw into a tight line and ensured that no trickle of this treacherous emotion trickled through.

It wouldn't do.

"Come now Severus," Dumbledore chided lightly, though fully expecting this response, "you surely don't expect me to believe such a poorly conceived tale? I may be edging closer and closer to my, I'm sure blessed retirement, but you cannot think me so senile?" He allowed himself a small chuckle. "Well, perhaps you do…but let us say for this argument, I am not. So…yourself and young Mr Potter…do tell all?"

He leaned forwards then, in a show of sheer expectancy as Snape's jowls quivered indignantly.

He recovered quickly.

"Headmaster, I do not wish to be rude-"

"How novel!" Dumbledore interrupted with a twinkling laughter.

"…but, I am afraid I must prepare for tomorrow's lessons," Snape continued doggedly, artfully pretending the interjection hadn't occurred. He made to rise with a quiet "so if you'll excuse me," but before he could hoist so much as one buttock from the chair, Dumbledore's frown had him rapidly seated once more.

"Severus…I think we both know that you shall not be leaving this office without divulging the information I so determinedly seek?"

Snape's muttering was graciously ignored as Albus swiped the frown from his brow. "So…whether you are comfortable with admitting the situation or not, there has been certain…bonding between you and young Harry. Even other members of staff have noted and remarked upon it, with delight I must add. So, please…if you will, how _did_ this curiosity come to pass?"

The horror that had engulfed Snape since Dumbledore had explained the reason for his summoning instantly went through the roof. Not only had the man in front of him noticed how _foolish_ that maddening offspring of Lily's made him act, but his colleagues had too? His colleagues that he barely tolerated, save for a select few…all noticing his simpering idiocy? His cheeks were rapidly losing their sallow condition once more as embarrassment flooded through him.

"I would have thought you would be too busy running a school of this scale to entertain idle gossip."

Dumbledore hid a smile.

"Tone, Severus," he reprimanded quietly, "and generally speaking, I am. But I'm sure you're aware that any tittering regarding Harry…tend to get noticed by me. Now…I do hate to repeat myself, but I really do feel it would be much easier for both of us if you would just explain the turnaround between you two. Preferably before Mr Filch demands my presence at the sight of what I fear shall be quite the Poltergeist travesty."

Severus hid a snarl.

He had been around the wizard in front of him long enough to know he was the most tenacious man he'd ever met. Particularly when it came to the Potter boy. Swallowing a sigh, he made a show of throwing his black eyes upwards, causing Dumbledore to clear his throat warningly, before beginning.

"Very _well,"_ he snapped, "I daresay if you have been informed by the clearly underworked gossipers, you're aware that I am of a less…shall we say, hostile disposition towards Potter?" At Dumbledore's encouraging nod, he continued slowly. "Over time…and over a series of certain events, I've…found myself seeing less of _him_ in the child and more of…her."

Dumbledore felt the familiar stab of pain for Severus' pain, but held his peace.

This was incredibly difficult for his protégée of sorts, and he knew it.

"Do not misunderstand me. The boy…possess many of the traits of his father, that despite my best efforts…I fear will be with him for life…" the two exchanged a brief smile that was so small, it was gone in a blink. "But…she is shining through him more and more as the day's go on…and I confess, I found myself some months ago noticing it more and more. He is…intelligent, though desperately lacks a solid work ethic, but I am hoping Ms Granger might be of some use there. I noticed it one day during Potions…which was the usual dismal affair, but…when I ignored his mess of a draught and said nothing…the boy, he rectified it."

Snape was looking off into the distance now and Albus deeply suspected he was talking more to himself than him, and he was more than happy to indulge that misconception.

"I'm not sure what it was…maybe it was her determination. You remember? The way she _had_ to get the things she got wrong, right? Maybe it was that…but watching him siphon out the mess he'd made and start anew, this time doing it right…it just, reminded me of her." Snape sucked in a breath then, lost to his own memories. "He's been as unruly as ever this term, so he's been in detention with me more than all my Slytherin's put together."

Dumbledore wisely kept the "that wouldn't be difficult," comment to himself.

"He's not as aggravating as you'd think, you know? He's actually quite…quite interesting, I suppose. He has her way of looking at things. Full of questions. He's never really asked me questions before…but then again I suppose I've never really been that…err, receptive of them. But he's inquisitive, and after detention after detention…we got to ahh…talking."

Albus was quite sure at this point that Severus was only partially aware of his presence in the office.

"It's ridiculous…utterly stupid, but I quite simply have grown to…care for the child. Her child. To the point," he let out a self deprecating laugh, "to the point where my hatred for Lupin has grown to include the affinity he has with the boy. The easy relationship they share…not marred by the two years of mistreatment I've meted out to him." He rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. "It is growing to be one of my biggest regrets…the way I abused that child. She would have been disgusted…she would have thought me better." His eyes glazed over slightly. "But then…she always saw the best in people, did Lily. Even that _simpleton_ of a sister of hers…"

He trailed off, and the soft expression that he'd only seen when the younger man was speaking of Lily left his face, and a cold anger replaced it. An anger Dumbledore instantly sensed wasn't all that fresh, and an anger he instantly sensed the younger man had been waiting his opportune moment to vent. And…he had a sickening feeling that he knew _exactly_ what it was about.

"Did you know?" Snape suddenly demanded, his eyes finding the older man and locking upon him with an arctic glare. "Did you _know_ the kind of _treatment_ that child has suffered at the hands of those muggle buffoons? How they locked him in a…broom cupboard. How they barely fed him. How their monstrosity of a son bullied him with their blessing. How her own _sister_ allowed him to be caged like a recalcitrant animal. Did you _know_ about all that, or is something that is all part of your _plan_ for the boy, and not to be questioned by the likes of me or other mere mortals?"

Albus exhaled slowly.

He'd been right about the source of the anger.

…and it fell a million times short of the regret, guilt and remorse he threw at himself for it.

"I did," he replied softly, simply. "I knew when I left Harry on that doorstep that he would face eleven young years of mistreatment, misunderstanding and misery. I knew that he would be treated like a pariah. I was well aware of all those face Severus, and continued to be aware as the years passed, with Mrs Figg playing her role remarkably well. I assure you, I have lost the sleep I have deserved to lose over Harry's plight. I have. But, I confess…the reason I have dragged the nature of your relationship with the child from you, is tied up in your very cause of anger."

Snape merely stared in confused anger.

"What are you talking about?" he spat, his anger heaving in his chest. The images of Lily's child being so horribly treated, much like he had been himself swimming in his mind. Where had he been all that time the boy was being used as a punching bag? Loathing him. Loathing a boy he had never even met, and who's state of orphan-hood rested upon his shoulders. He should have moved heaven and earth to ensure not only the safety, but the happiness of her child. Instead he had shown not a morsel of interest in Dumbledore's explanations of years passed. How the familial bond between Lily and Petunia would keep him safe.

Because he didn't care.

Now…now he did care.

But it was too late to take back those years of misery.

The memory of them were burned into Harry's mind and were there to stay.

"I'm talking about an issue that has arisen quite recently Severus," Dumbledore murmured, "an issue that I am faced with two solutions to. One being you. And one…being Remus. I pitch this solution to you first, and you are well within your rights to take your leave and refuse. If you do, I shall never mention it again, nor shall I hold any ill will against you. You have my word on that matter."

Snape shook his head slowly, a dread filling him.

"What are you talking about?" he repeated slowly, but with no bite.

Dumbledore inhaled slowly.

"I am talking about the fact that the summer is fast looming upon us. I am talking about the fact that those simpering, suffering muggles you were speaking of have exacerbated an already tenuous position. They are…shall we say still highly aggrieved at the unfortunate incident with Harry's aunt last summer, and are quite simply refusing to take him back this summer by not being there themselves. They are taking some form of…err boating…expedition, and will not occupy Privet Drive for the entire holidays."

He took another deep breath.

"Of course you know the nature of the enchantment which protects Harry will be broken when he cannot call the place he resides with Lily's sibling home. I am not willing to gamble that a…cruise ship befits the description of home. Therefore, alternative arrangements must be made."

He took _another_ deep breath.

"Hogwarts, of course is the obvious choice. The Weasley's are more than willing to accommodate, but such a long expanse of time leaves me uneasy. I, as you know, cannot stay here during the summer. We will not discuss the why's of that now, as you know. But…it begs the question, doesn't it? Obviously a highly trained, highly skilled witch or wizard must remain on the premises, if Harry is to take the unusual step and spend his summer holidays here."

Snape was getting paler and paler as Dumbledore pressed on.

"The obvious candidates, well versed in the dark arts no less, are yourself and Remus like I have said. Now, if you were to-"

"The boy…would no doubt prefer Lupin's company over mine," Snape blurted out in interruption, with an odd bitterness. "I give him discipline, he gives him _dungbombs."_

Dumbledore resolved to have a private word with Remus.

"Actually Severus," he countered, a softness entering his blue eyes as a situation he had never before precedence replayed itself in his mind, "I have already spoken to young Harry about the situation…" he trailed off, looking at the glumness on Snape's face, and felt his brow's raise. The man…was disappointed. Dumbledore blinked. He'd seen u-turns before, but never something like this. A warmth spread throughout him as a sort of natural order realignment played out before him. The idea…the _very idea…_ that Severus Snape would be smarting because he believed Harry Potter to prefer Remus Lupin to him was flabbergasting.

And it was also, to his mind, a stunningly _right_ occurrence.

One…Lily would have approved of.

"I assume he felt faint at the idea of having to follow rules for an entire holiday and…"

Snape fell silent as Dumbledore raised a hand.

"He said he would prefer if you would stay with him."

The world jolted off its axis. Black eyes faltered, as a curtain of lank hair was swept out of their bemused wake. Perhaps he had heard wrong. He _must_ have heard wrong. All the students…bar his own, _raved_ about freaking Lupin. He was their clad iron favourite, whilst _he…_ remained in the top spot for most universally despised. Shaking his head to clear the fog of confusion, he looked up at the elder wizard in amazement.

"He said…what?"

Dumbledore couldn't remember a smile he had smiled that was so torn between unwavering joy and piercing sadness.

"He chose you," he said simply, "he chose you, Severus. Now…the question I suppose, is…do you accept? I meant to say…Harry and young Mr Weasley and Ms Granger are a force together, but you shouldn't underestimate their ability to wreak havoc divided. You should be aware that-"

"Yes."

Dumbledore blinked.

"Yes?"

Snape nodded, without hesitation.

"Yes."

Albus sat numbly. This…was frankly not the outcome he'd expected. He'd seen with his own eyes the changes Harry's third year had brought about in the relationship between he and his protégée…but he had never dared dream they would be this extreme. He expected to feel a sense of foreboding. But…he did not. He felt only a naturalness. Unorthodox though it may be, he knew, just as he knew all the many and wonderful things that he knew, that this summer would be a success.

In more ways than even his brain could countenance.

He felt his heart, often so heavy with the burdens it carried soar freely as he took in the stance of the man in front of him. The man who had come so far from the informant that had started the whole trail of fire in the first instance. He knew as he looked at the determined and yet utterly amazed line of Severus' face that protecting Harry was now his goal. His mission. His ode to the woman he had loved so much and yet who'd grown so alien to him.

Harry was his second chance, and as Snape rose to shake his hand in concretisation of their agreement, he knew that he wouldn't need a third.

As he left his office, Dumbledore knew that for the young educator…nothing had changed, but nothing would ever be the same again.

It would later be insisted upon by two excitable first years that some kind of _ghost horse_ had sprinted across the frost bitten grass that night.

The corporeal doe's euphoric canter really _had_ been a sight to see.

…

FIN

….


End file.
